


Romance Only Happens In Romcoms

by turntechRavager



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Humanstuck, M/M, pawnstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechRavager/pseuds/turntechRavager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat Vantas is a highschool dropout who runs a pawnshop owned by the Midnight Crew, and he of all people knows that life is never easy and you've got to fight for your right to live. If only he knew the full extent of what's in store for his future.</p><p>This fic does NOT have a set pairing yet, it's open for suggestions. Rating subject to change, input command for next chapter option available.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ==> Be Karkat Vantas

Your name is Karkat Vantas, highschool drop out and sole full time employee of a shitty pawn shop in the shadiest fucking part of town. You guess it could be worse, a lot fucking worse considering what kind of a worthless dumbass past you was, so you never find it in yourself to complain about your current situation in life. Everything else around you though? You'd better fucking believe you will find even the most insignificant fuck up of any of the temp employees to bitch about. And there's always that sense of satisfaction that comes with firing some asshole who has an issue with a nineteen year old kid being his boss.

You guess a little explanation of your situation is needed, since when the hell did some kid who didn't even make it through freshman year manage to land a top position of any store, even a shitty pawn shop? Luck was all it was really, the only good thing to ever happen in your life if you're feeling rather optimistic. Your dad died half way through freshman year, and like fuck you were going to let child services take you into the system. It was about principle more than anything. You know your dad would rather you have run instead of sticking around and letting yourself get transferred from home to home of a bunch of douchebags who thought you were just some lonely abused kid looking for attention and letting his anger be his coping mechanism. Some people just don't understand it's not coping. Most of the world are just fuckasses you don't want to deal with. So when you heard that your dad had kicked it, you only came home long to grab a dufflebag of your shit and get the hell out of dodge. The cops waiting for you with their half assed condolences didn't even see you thanks to all your experience jumping the back wall from the alley and sneaking into your bedroom window. So what if it was on the third story? Practice makes perfect, and your dad was enough of an ass to ground you constantly but cool enough to say if you managed to sneak in and out without him catching you then good for you.

By the end of three days you were already a mess thanks to some horribly cliche thunderstorms that decided to hit the town. Your only saving grace at the time was that most of your bag was water proof, but you rarely opened it in fear of something going horribly wrong. Even in the same clothes, sleeping in a freezing as hell alley and stealing a bit of fruit here and there to eat it was still better than the shit they would have put you through in fostercare. Your real luck kicked in when you tried to steal from the wrong guys. They almost beat the shit out of you but their leader apparently liked your guts because just as you thought they were going to take you behind some building and brutally murder you, you found yourself being tossed into a rather shitty looking, but dry and sizable, room and told to put your shit down and come take the tour.

Your new job, your new home. Turns out the guys you tried hitting up were the leaders of the local mafia and they were looking for a new front guy to run their pawn shop. You didn't bother asking what "accident" the last guy got into, but since these guys seemed pretty chill the asshole probably deserved whatever it was. There were two doors at the back of the shop, both of them with keypad locks. Behind one was a staircase that lead to the basement, to the Crew's main hideout where they did all their plans and meetings, and the other lead to your shitty little living quarters. A small kitchen just barely big enough for the minimum appliances, a shower and a tiny bathroom, and a moderately sized bedroom all crammed together. Not much, but it was home to you now. And despite it all, there was a certain pride in how much they trusted you. When they weren't down in the basement, the entire place was yours. If some random chump needs to be hired on part time to keep up appearances, it's your call. If the person turns out to be a total bitch or a giant douchebag, it's up to you whether to fire their asses on the spot or keep them around if they're worth it. They usually aren't though, there are very few people who are worth your patience. It's not always easy, since this place is in the shittiest possible part of town and there will always be random dickheads who come in looking to pick a fight with or rob the tiny little firecracker you make behind the counter, but they learn soon enough that your bite is just as bad as your bark. And on the rare occasions where they manage to over power you, there's always the knives. Your boss likes knives and not only made sure you knew where all of them were hidden but personally taught you the fastest ways to kill a man with them. You don't like having to resort to that though, no matter how much of a heartless asshole as you can come off as. The whole hemophobia thing doesn't really help either.

You don't really have many friends, and frankly you don't fucking need any either. Who the hell wants a bunch of assholes intruding on their lives telling them that they need to find a better place to live and a more legit job? This place is all you really need, and as long as you've still got the only person who matters to you anymore around you consider yourself set on the friendship level. You're still not sure how the fuck Gamzee found you in the first place, he was the only one to ever really give a shit about you through most of school and thus earned his status as best friend. Beating the shit out of any assholes who tried to bully you helped too, it was actually how you guys met back in second grade and he'd been watching over you ever since. Sure, he wasn't the most stable of guys but who the fuck cared? He always treated you right and kept himself alive so that's what was important. He comes around now and again to check up on you, or just to hang out. Only reason you never bothered hiring him on with you is because he's a small time drug dealer on the side and you're pretty sure Slick would get annoyed as fuck if potheads started hanging around.

There's two other guys you can almost consider friends, one you've chatted occasionally with since you first started working in this shithole and the other you just hired on recently for a bit of extra muscle. The first is the guy in charge of the security system in this place, some skinny bitch hacker that's got to be bipolar or something to match his duality fetish. The two of you occasionally get in arguments whenever he comes to check up on the systems and make sure everything's working properly or add on new shit, but more often than not he ends up coming upstairs to your room to hang out and play some video games before he heads out. The other guy has the longest record of working there and not pissing you off, some big muscled freak you hired about three months ago after an incident that scared the shit out of you. Waking up in the hospital with Slick trying poorly to pretend like he didn't give a shit was a pretty good wake up call that you can't always be as badass as you like to think you are. So you hired on a security guard of sorts, someone to just stand there and look intimidating to all the assholes who come in trying to pick a fight. He's saved your ass at least once in the time he's been working for you, and you're pretty grateful to have him around. No matter how much of a total perverted weirdo he can be at times. 

So far, today's just another lameass day where you're kicking back behind the counter reading a magazine and wishing time would go by faster. What should you do with your free time?


	2. ==> Karkat: Deal with hipster douchebags

You work at a god damned pawnshop, of COURSE you've seen your fair share of hipsters. You'd even dare to say that one of them isn't so bad aside from being an uppity rich bitch who just comes in to check out the jewelry that comes and goes through this place. Annoying little shit, but you can tolerate him well enough. Sometimes you think the guy's just pathetic and lonely, always talking as he looks around the shop and trying to start a conversation no matter how much you try to ignore him. Occasionally you'll be bored enough to give and chat with him a bit, and in doing so learned that this guy sucks at relationships. Each time you talk to him, part of you wishes you hadn't opened your mouth. Because apparently in his language "hi" means "tell me your entire fucking life story, don't worry i'll listen". Sometimes you give him what advice you can, but it's really just a waste because it's not like he ever listens. He'll be back in a week later bitching and moaning about the same shit. You still think back on the time when he came in complaining while Sollux was working on one of the security cameras, and his advice of "try not being a colossal tool and a douchebag" seemed pretty sound to you. The fight that came up from the comment was pretty damned entertaining to watch at least, before you said fuck it and kicked them both out. Sure, your boss complained about the camera not being fixed until the next day but who gives a fuck? You live in the fucking building, you're pretty sure you'd hear someone breaking in.

And then there's the other one. The one who comes strutting in at least three times a week like he owns the fucking place, always on the look out for some old school photography equipment or shitty old records. You have never wanted so desperately to punch someone in face in the first ten minutes of knowing them until you met this guy. He doesn't even have to do anything, doesn't have to say a god damned word, and that's what pisses you off the most. All he has to do is make a small noise, just enough to get your attention, and then go about making a show of deciding if he wants to look in the glass cases or not, and once you actually go over to see what the bastard wants he shrugs and moves on. You brushed it off at first, because maybe the asshole was just indecisive or something. But the fact that he does it every god damned fucking time started to grate on your nerves pretty fast. And you know the fucker's doing it on purpose, that little smirk he has when he hears your sounds of frustration is a dead give away that he's just fucking with you. And the moment you decide to just ignore him is when he speaks up, saying how rude it is to ignore a customer who wants to check out the quality of what you got. And on those times, he spends two seconds looking over whatever it is he wanted out of the case before saying he changed his mind.

You're pretty sure Slick would help you hide the body, you've thought about it on multiple occasions. Once you were even dangerously close to following through, but then the prick had to go and show he had FEELINGS of all fucking things and you felt kind of bad afterward. It was an incident of running into him on the streets and it still makes you uncomfortable to think about. His insufferable attitude didn't change after that day aside from annoying conversation added in to the mix, so you're pretty sure that awkward conversation falls under the "never to be mentioned again" category.

You're pulled out of your musings and away from your magazine as you hear the door chime, and speak of the fucking devil. Who even made that saying up? Speak of the devil and he shall appear? Why doesn't it work on actual devils and yet for some fucking reason always works on douchebags?

"Sup Kitkat." Two words out of his mouth and you already want to punch him in the throat.

"What the fuck did I tell you about calling me that? If you can't even get my name right then why should I waste my breath talking to a cretinous fucklord like you, who probably spends all of your free time shitting out your own ego and eating it just to shit it out again in an endless cycle of swallowing and spewing all of your bullshit until it over inflates you and pours out every orifice so all anyone can smell when they walk by is your vomit inducing shit-ego breath."

"So you think I'm a lord of fucking? Normally I've got to bang someone to get that title, but I'm cool with that." 

And just like that, all of your anger seeps out of you with the pain of your head impacting the metal surface of the counter. It's not worth it. It's just not fucking worth it, this douchebag will only hear what he wants to hear and interpret everything you say whatever way his sick little imagination can come up with. Your day is officially ruined, which doesn't make it any different than all the other days before it. Fuck your life with a broken rusted hacksaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to input a ==> command as a suggestion for the next chapter, be it an action for Karkat to do or even becoming another character entirely. Putting in a suggestion for a pairing for Karkat is always encouraged as there's still nothing set in stone.
> 
> Comments = Inspiration to update faster <3


End file.
